Musings
by Gelana
Summary: Gwen and Anna chat at the end of the day.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Started this before season 4 began. It may just be a one shot, but I may continue it. Thought I would give you lovelies something short and sweet to chew on, as you have been so kind to me.**

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From the first he sat with her. It made sense; as far as she could see everyone else was a bit distant, whereas she had welcomed him as she would any other coworker. And she liked him from the start. A matter which was clinched when Lord Grantham came below stairs to welcome him personally and his only response to the collectively open mouthed staff was to shrug and state that they hadn't asked. She hoped that it made the lot of them feel bloody foolish. They all ought to be ashamed for jumping to conclusions and assuming he was incapable because he needed a cane. He was patient and courteous with the younger staff and properly respectfull and deferential to Mr. Carson, Mrs. Patmore and Mrs. Hughes. He took care and pride in his work. She watched him out of the corner of her eye as she tended her own mending or polishing. He had large hands, but agile fingers, and could lay a row of stitches as well as she. He didn't share much about himself, but then most in the house did not. It would seem he had an easy, mischievous sense of humor, like her own. When he leaned near to her to comment quietly on other conversations at the table she smelled polish and soap and just a hint of rosemary. It had drawn a small smile to her lips the first time she noticed it.

She noticed other things too. He liked he tea strong but didn't drink it until it cooled a bit. He had a hard time keeping his injured leg still when he sat for any period of time. When something really amused him, his smile lit his eyes, but most of the time his expression was guardedly neutral. When he ate he took care to ensure that each bite was just so. If supper was lamb stew with turnips and carrots, his spoonfuls were sure to contain a small portion of each. He would fish around dutifully until a favorable balance was reached, and only then enjoy the bite. He was a gentle man, but his frame, his hands, the thickness of his shoulders and arms betrayed a strength that was rarely called upon in service. She also noticed he did not like to be idle. When his duties where finished he called on others. Twice now he had even helped she and Gwen to tidy the rooms. She had seen him polishing table silver for Mr. Carson. His was a calm and quiet presence, but it was solid, reliable, and Anna quickly grew to anticipate his company.  
Gwen was the first to notice, or at least to say something.  
"Why do you always sit near Mr. Bates? Do you fancy him?"  
Apparently her look of horror only served to confirm Gwen's suspicions.  
"You do! Anna! He's so old! And fat! Never mind being lame!"  
Gwen, my lord! I don't fancy him!" She bloomed scarlet and then furrowed her brow, "What of it if I did? He's not so very old. With his leg being how it is of course he carries an extra stone or so. He's a kind man and I like his sense of humor."  
At Gwen's look she felt the pressing need to continue, "After the way Ms. O'Brien greeted him? Wouldn't you appreciate a friend in the house after that?"  
"You DO fancy him. Anna May Smith don't you lie to me!"  
Anna rolled her eyes and sighed, "Gwen! We work together. What would Mrs. Hughes say? And you said yourself, he's too old for me. Besides, he probably has someone special back in London."

Gwen laughed. "You really do fancy him if you've thought all that through. There is no accounting for taste I suppose."

"Why just because he isn't the ideal of masculine beauty? Leave it be Gwen. Youth and beauty don't last. Look at how fine we thought Thomas was when he first started. All he had to do was be himself for five minutes for all that beauty to lose its meaning. Mr. Bates is a good man. He may not be the youngest or finest or most fit, but he has a kind heart. You've heard how encouraging he is to William; how he stands up to Thomas when he is being a bully. And how gentle natured he is with Daisy when Mrs. Patmore's been after her. He always has a thoughtful word, he'll always lend a hand if he can. And he has such a boyish way about the eyes when he smiles." Anna smiled softly, before her eyes widened and snapped back to Gwen. "Lord, Gwen, I do fancy him, don't I?"  
Gwen fell backwards onto her bed in peals of laughter. "At least you don't fancy Thomas like poor hopeless Daisy."  
Anna covered her head with her shawl and loosed a groan. "That poor girl. He's cruel to her string her along like that."  
"Don't think you'll be changing the subject that easy now, Miss Smith. In the entire time I've worked here I've never seen you give any man the time of day."

"Well I shan't be giving this man the time of day either. I'll not look the love struck fool. Doesn't mean we can't share a civil word at meal times and over tea and chores. You know me Gwen I do my best to show everyone respect and consideration. I'll do the same for him but not more."  
"Mmhmm," replied Gwen.  
"Gwen!"  
"What? I didn't say a word!"

Anna promptly threw her pillow at her freckled friend


	2. Chapter 2

He had very long legs. She noticed it one day and couldn't seem to stop noticing after that. It was a silly thing to notice. He was, after all, a very tall man. It would bear to reason that he would have long legs. Still she was fascinated by the physicality of his legs, in the same way she couldn't stop watching him when she would find him polishing shoes in the courtyard, his shirt sleeves turned up, forearms exposed. It gave her a ridiculous thrill that in turn made her chide herself for acting a schoolgirl.

Gwen had promised her not to breath a word of Anna's revelation to anyone, and had been dutifully true to her friend. But like a wound that won't stop itching while it heals, once her feelings made themselves known she could think of little else. Nothing would come of her infatuation, she knew, but still she found herself lingering in the commons room when he was there, taking sidelong glances at his hands. She found it difficult to hold back her mirth when he leaned to tell her things.

Simple things. There was a painting in a corrider near Lord Grantham's dressing room that bore a passing resemblance to his mother. He'd found a lovely field of bluebells on his last afternoon off. Could she direct him to the village apothecary? She should have seen how Mrs. Patmore clutched her throat in conniptions when she saw a mouse late last night. He had been taking one last cuppa and had helped dispatch the rodent. His eyes gleamed conspiratorily when he told how he found the cook on her knees on the cutting block when he went to see what the commotion was about. She refused to come down until he had finished his task with a sharp strike of his stick and disposed of the body.

"You would think as a cook she would be used to the occasional vermin."

"Yes you would think there'd be nothing in the world the she could possibly be afraid of, fierce as she is."

"Poor Daisy, she'd be in right shape if she could only become a mouse instead of acting like one."

She didn't speak more about her thoughts of Mr. Bates with Gwen. The girl would tease her and she had grown sensitive. He wasn't pretty like William or fine featured like Thomas. What he was was a candle flame, that shone. He was warm eyes and firm hands and strong arms and, she smiled, long legs. He was gentle and funny and kind, even though he had survived bloodshed and fighting and screams and whatever else the war had heaped on him. She didn't know. She wanted to asked but was afraid to. There was much they spoke of, and much more they didn't. But more and more, her appreciations of his character turned to thoughts of a significantly more lascivious nature, thoughts of the breadth of his shoulders, the softness of his torso, being folded against his chest, his arms wound around her, and if she was alone in the dark, and Gwen had fallen asleep, the welcome weight of him over her, and the soughing sound of his breath in her ear.


End file.
